Eliza was beginning to feel the sweat permeating wherever cloth met skin, but it didn't seem to change her mood,"Catherine Thatcher, I like it. Plus I have some connections with a few indigenous groups from the past, who had a couple problems with poachers advancing on tribal lands. I have a few gifted masks back home at my apartment. Just a few of my treasures."

She sighed, imagining she was lounging on her throw pillows and curtains from India and Morocco. Bright candles from Persia and floral incense from China surrounding her. She groaned, "You know with the amount of time I actually spend in that apartment, I treat it more like a museum or storage compartment. What is your home like? I envision a large library for a promising writer."

A grunt escaped her lips as she pushed forward up another dune, wishing she had a camel between her thighs rather than the over sized garters, that for some idiotic reason she thought matched her damn dress that cost her 30 pounds. She bristled, her inner monologue continued, "[i]I don't even like dresses![/i]" She burst into laughter, covering her mouth so as not to be rude.